A note on my previous post–I know that’s probably Seventh Avenue, but I had to pick another part of the Macy’s parade route that fit the metre. Such are the constraints of poetry–no wonder so many poets were crazy or died young.

[My first haiku should probably start “Field notes: November.” I forgot that Thanksgiving is celebrated a month later down there than it is up here. Or the parrot forgot to turn the page in his calendar. Something like that.]

Field notes, November:
I’ve found some errors in my
documentation

That blue idol thing?
It happened in November.
And they DID eat birds.

@Camille– tell me about it! Every summer the eggs they left in the walls start popping open and my whole building is totally infested with those colorful little “guests”. The cat eats as many as she can catch, and I set out motels and keep the kitchen spotless, but every time I turn on the light I see a bunch of them scatter under the stove with my crackers in their beaks.